


Push and Pull

by CastielsCarma



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Curses, Destiel Port Facebook Group (Supernatural), Frotting, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, handjob, magnetism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:08:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27371704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastielsCarma/pseuds/CastielsCarma
Summary: Dean and Cas get cursed. And suddenly Dean finds himself attracted to Cas, quite literally.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 32
Kudos: 220





	Push and Pull

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Push and pull](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27488299) by [DaisyZis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyZis/pseuds/DaisyZis)



> Hello readers!
> 
> So I stumbled upon this prompt and had to write it and I had a blast writing it.  
> We need more crack fics out there, although this turned kinda serious. I hope you like this! If I missed any tags, let me know.
> 
> Kudos and comments make me smile. You want to make me smile, don't you? (I'm fine with pain and misery too though, so no pressure).

Rowena takes a step back as the vampire approaches her. “Manete.”

The vampire stops, frozen on the floor as rage contorts its features. Dean Winchester sneaks up behind it like an avenging spirit with the machete in hand. One swift motion with his arm and the vampire is headless.

“Thank you, dear.”

Dean grunts. “It's nothing. You good?”

Rowena adjusts her locks as she looks around the crystal shop. “I'm fine. My hair has seen better days though.”

Dean shakes his head. “There's nothing wrong with your hair, Rowena. You always look like you're ready to go to some party.”

“Not that you boys know anything about a party. When was the last time you had fun?”

Dean wipes his blade clean. “This was fun.”

Castiel joins them. “Was that the last one?”

A voice calls out from the back. “I got him.”

Rowena sighs. “Ah, since all the vampires seem to be accounted for, well done boys.” She looks at the shattered crystals on the floor and the broken table. “Too bad about the stones though.” Rowena grabs her skirt and walks carefully around the small glass pieces. She picks up a cluster of rough, green, crystals and whispers to it. The crystals flash brightly, and the light dies down.

“You just gonna take that one?”

Rowena sighs. “Of course not, Dean. It's _mine_. When the Grand Coven, with their scheming and backstabbing, cast me out, they didn't think lowly of my artifacts and stones. Oh no. Those they stole. I'm just taking back what's _mine_. As if a protection spell will help. My crystals know me, and they yearn to go back home.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Uh-huh, Stone-Whisperer. Well, hurry up. If traffic is not too bad, we can still catch that buffet ten miles down the road. I'm starving.”

Rowena inspects the crystals. “In a minute.”

Dean mutters something and walks away.

Glad that the crystals seem intact, Rowena puts them in her bag. It is too bad about the shop though. It was quaint but she supposes that the owners can bring it back to life again.

She glances at Dean and sees that he's talking to Castiel. They lean into each other, whispering secrets. Rowena frowns. It's not juicy secrets either, that she knows. Those two were more stubborn than the mule she tried to steal when she was just a girl back in Scotland, centuries ago. Castiel says something to Samuel as she walks into the room and Rowena doesn't miss the glance Dean gives to the angel.

It's not even subtle. A softness comes over Dean, so quickly that he's certain that no one can tell, but Rowena knows. It's not like she's the first one to pick up on it either. Even demons gossip about them!

She thinks back on the conversation she had with Samuel back in the car. About Lucifer. She thinks back on meeting Death, about Fergus and Oscar and she thinks of her regrets. Regrets sour the soul and leave you cold and bitter as the winter winds.

Against her better judgment, the Winchester brothers, Castiel, and Jack have become her family. What is it Dean always says? You look out for your family.

Rowena wipes her mouth and spits in her palm. “Diligere eos. Et corpora eorum non tenetur etiam,” she whispers. A harmful little spell. If there is nothing there, the spell will have no effect, but if Rowena is correct, well. She looks out for her family.

“Dean, Castiel.” Rowena smiles and makes sure to touch both of them. A subtle hand over Castiel's wrist and she takes Dean's hand in hers. “I appreciate you doing this. I know it's witches business but – “

“You would've done the same for us, Rowena. It's nothing. Let's go grab lunch before they run out of spare ribs.”

Rowena smiles. “Let's go.”

†

Dean yawns, grabs his cellphone, and squints against the harsh light. Just after seven. Fucking hell, that's more hours than he's had in forever. He gets up and pulls on a pair of black sweatpants and a black T-shirt. Maybe not the most original but there's already a pull in his stomach. Coffee and food and then he can function properly.

He ambles to the bathroom and sighs in satisfaction. Nothing beats the first piss in the morning. Suddenly he falls back against the wall.

“Great, I'm having fall accidents.” Dean gets up slowly and grimaces at the mess. He's not even had his coffee yet. He sighs and grabs a rag and some cleaning spray. He sprays the whole area down twice and wipes it clean.

He doesn't care if God himself shoves up, he's getting his coffee.

Dean smiles as he enters the kitchen. Cas is already up – he usually is – and the coffee maker is on. Just the smell of it soothes his nerves. To be honest though, just looking at _Cas_ calms him. Maybe it's that Dean's getting older and sappier, maybe it's all the fucking shit they've been through – too much with Michael and the goddamn coffin and Lucifer and then Cas being dead too many times – but Cas just keeps looking nicer. Hotter. He can admit that Cas looks hot in his own mind.

“Morning, Cas. Thanks for making coffee.”

Cas looks at him. “I heard you were awake so...”

Dean scratches his neck and hopes that's all Cas heard. “Yeah, was just sleep – “

Suddenly, Dean's being pushed, no _pulled_ towards Cas and to his horror he sees Cas hurtling towards him. “What the hell?!”

Cas smacks against him, their chests flush against each other. That is not the only thing that's flushed and pressed together. Dean's groin is trying to fuse itself with Cas' groin and in any other circumstances, it would be hot as hell but not now.

Cas' gravely voice sounds concerned. “Dean, I think – “

Dean tries to take a step back but only manages a few inches before his leg is plastered against Cas again. “Cas, are you doing something? I know you got the hang of the personal space years ago so what the hell, man?” Dean's head is turned to the side so he can't really see Cas but he can hear him.

“You think _I'm_ the one responsible for this?”

Dean tries to move but only succeeds in rubbing his groin against Cas. His cock stirs. Panic courses through him. He's not getting a boner, not now. He grabs that panic and the heat that wells up inside him and turns it into anger. “ Well, it ain't me!”

“Don't worry, Dean, we'll think of something.”

“I'm not worried. Try to scoot down or something.” Dean looks longingly at the coffee pot but his thoughts are cut short when Cas grabs his ass.

Dean freezes. “Uh, Cas, get out of my ass...”

Cas grunts. “I'm sorry but it appears that we're... stuck. The pull is so strong.” Cas finally slides his hands down towards the back of Dean's thighs. He slowly pushes himself further down.

For a brief second, Dean is relieved until he notices that his pants are sliding down too. “Stop, Cas. My pants are coming off!”

Cas freezes. “Sorry, I was just trying to help.”

Heat colors Dean's cheeks as he looks down at the top of Cas' head. His face is practically pressed against his crotch now. And Cas is still talking. As if Dean can understand a single word of what Cas is saying. It all sounds like muted mutterings.

“Morning, guys!”

“Hello!”

Dean groans. Great. Just great. Now Sam and Jack are there too.

He sees Sam slap a hand over Jack's eyes. “Dude! Guys! It's not even noon.” Sam pauses. “Get a room.”

Dean splutters as Cas pulls his hand off Dean's thigh only for it to be splattered against the back of his knee. “Why would we get a room? This is not what it looks like.”

Finally, the weird magnetic attraction seems to lessen and Cas stands up.

Dean is just about to sigh in relief when Cas' shoulder comes crashing into his own shoulder.

“It seems we're still stuck,” Cas says.

“You don't say. You know, this is too much. I haven't even had coffee.” Dean pulls at Cas who follows along. Dean grabs a mug with one hand but Cas is in the way so he can't reach the pot. “Pour me some coffee, will you?”

Cas obliges and soon the warm coffee goes down. “Fuck, that's good.”

“Good luck, guys!”

Dean turns quickly and pulls Cas with him who is unprepared. Coffee spills all over his hand and the counter. ”Hey, what you mean, 'good luck, guys? Are you not worried that I'm attached to Cas like this? This is not normal.”

Sam opens the body fridge and grabs a premade smoothie. He raises the bottle towards Dean. “Jack, you want anything?”

Jack looks at Dean and Cas, wide-eyed. “No.”

“We should do research, Dean.” Cas' voice is way too close to Dean, his _body_ is way too close to Dean's.”

Dean turns and stares right at Cas. His blue eyes are serious – and too beautiful to be real. Dean's eyes flicker to Cas' full lips. “Uh, yeah, we should.”

“Sammy!”

“Having breakfast. You two have fun.”

†

Cas puts down the book on the table. “That was the last one.”

Dean's side is pressed to Cas' and although Dean grumbled in the beginning, he does find it relaxing. Not that there's anything relaxing about turning into a freaking magnet but it feels nice to have that excuse just to be close to Cas.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean shakes his head. “Did you touch anything at that crystal shop? Maybe a crystal was cursed or something?”

“No, I was busy decapitating a vampire.”

“Me too. Well, I don't have jack.” Dean bites his lip. “Wanna try to separate again?”

Cas looks at Dean. “We could do that.”

“Alright. I'll run towards the door and you go for the bookshelves. And if you feel a pull or whatever hold on to something.”

Cas nods. “On the count of three.”

Dean narrows his brows. “Why should you count?”

“Because I'm a celestial being of intent with precise knowledge about time in this current dimension we're occupying.”

“Oh, well, I have Google.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “One, two, three.”

Dean pushes away from Cas. His goal is the door and he's running as if Lucifer himself is after him. It's like the very air is molasses and his body is screaming at him that he's wrong, that he's separated, and that he belongs somewhere else. He can feel his feet going backward like there's a hidden downward slope.

Like hell this is happening again. Dean grabs a bookcase and grins when he notices the pull diminishing. “Hey, Cas, I think it's getting better. I can even – “

Cas comes hurtling towards him so fast that he pushes Dean down on the floor with a grunt.

Dean blinks his eyes open. Cas is on top of him – worse than that, – Cas fucking _straddles_ him.

Now would have been a great time not being a human boomerang. Cas always comes back. It's _nice_ that Cas comes back – too many times Dean has thought that Cas would never come back – but it wasn't this comeback that Dean had in mind.

Dean doesn't think about Cas straddling him. He doesn't think about this position being good. He doesn't think about this position being better if Cas was naked and there was some grinding going on. He glares at Cas for forcing him to think sexy thoughts about him.

“This didn't hold.” Cas holds up a candlestick.

“That's what you grabbed hold of?”

“It was closest to me.”

Dean groans. He's not gonna survive this. “You ready to get up, so we can uh... adjust positions?”

“Yes, this isn't optimal.”

“Nothing about this is optimal.”

Cas manages to pull off and they get plastered shoulder to shoulder again.

Dean sighs. “Maybe just a bit of contact is enough. Try to pull off my shoulder and I don't know... hold just a small part of me, like an elbow or the shoulder.”

Cas pulls away and already Dean feels the need to be close to Cas again. His hand slams into his left palm and Cas interlaces his fingers with his.

Dean looks at their hands and shakes them. They're stuck together like a blob of spaghetti. “Our _hands_?”

“Well, what's your suggestion then?” Cas sounds grumpy.

Dean sighs. He's so tired. “I don't know, Cas, I don't know.”

They walk out of the library hand in hand. Dean can't stop the warmth that envelops his body. He's very aware that this is just some asshat curse going on and that Cas is holding his hand because he has to, but just for a few seconds, even minutes, he can pretend that Cas is doing it because he _wants_ to.

“Where are we going,” Cas wonders.

Dean rubs his eyes. “I don't know. How about a whiskey?”

“It's ten in the morning.”

“You're right, Cas. Beer it is.”

Dean pulls him towards the kitchen but Cas digs his feet in. Dean looks at him in surprise. “Come on, let's go.”

“If you think, that I'll allow you to get drunk before lunchtime, you're wrong.”

Dean can't help but smile. Cas looks cute when he's pouting. “How about after lunch?”

Cas tilts his head to the side. “You _know_ I'm stronger than you, Dean. If you don't pull yourself together, we'll go into the Dean-cave and I'll make you watch that nature documentary. All four parts.”

A thrill of excitement goes through Dean. Not at the nature documentary part – that's like eight hours of watching – but that Cas will make him. He _is_ stronger.

“You'll make me?” Dean tries to make it sound like he's angry but even to his ears, it comes out breathless, a whisper.

“We'll find a way to beat this like we always do. You getting drunk solves absolutely nothing.”

“It was a figure of speech...”

“I know all the languages of the world. Not in any language is that correct.” Cas squints. “The closest would be kutyaharapást szőréve or 'hair of the dog that bit you' but you didn't get drunk yesterday so.”

“You're not making any sense.”

“Then you know how I feel when you suggest getting drunk to solve whatever this is.”

They've been so busy arguing that neither of them sees Sam walking up to them.

“I see it's true that opposites attract,” he says all too cheerfully while eating a yogurt – probably a soygurt or some other processed nut milk.

Dean glares at Sam. “We're having an argument.”

Sam takes another step towards them and the spoon flies out of his hand. It lands with a thud on Dean's shoulder. 

Rather than looking mad, Sam is wearing a smirk on his face. “I always knew you were the little spoon, Dean.”

“What? I'm not – We haven't – “

Dean looks at Cas who refuses to look anywhere besides at Sam. “We haven't found any leads in the library, Sam.”

Sam nods. “I see. I'm sorry, Cas. But you found something better.”

“We did?”

Sam's face splits into a huge smile as he looks at their hands. “True love. So happy for you, guys.” He pulls the spoon off his shoulder and continues walking, eating his nut yoghurt.

“This isn't funny, Sammy. We could be dying here!”

“Just don't die in my room, please,” Sam calls out. “I cleaned it yesterday.”

Dean looks at Cas. “We haven't... we're not – “ To his utter horror, he can't say that he's not in love with Cas. Not to Cas' face while they're holding hands, however forcefully. “We'll find a way, Cas.”

†

Dean tries not to fidget as they're eating lunch – correction, while  _he's_ eating lunch. 

“They're having a book sale at Barnes & Noble,” Cas says matter-factually.

Dean drops his sandwich and leans into Cas' right shoulder. They're attached there at the moment anyway. “You can't be serious.”

“I finished _A Memory of Light_ and very much enjoyed it. I'm all out of books.”

“Did you forget the part where I'm the peanut butter and you're the jam? Stuck together, meant to be? I think showing up in public would be a very bad idea.”

Cas nods. “Mm, maybe.”

“Not just maybe, _is_. A very bad idea.” Dean exhales slowly. His bladder is fucking killing him. “You can borrow Sam's Kindle. Hold up. _Rowena!_ We should talk to her. She's a _witch_ , she knows all about curses. I can't believe we didn't think about this earlier.”

Jack enters the kitchen. “Hi, Dean, hi Cas. How's it going?”

“Oh, you know, just hanging in there. Can you give me the sweet-chili sauce, Jack?”

Jack opens the pantry and tosses the sauce jar to Dean.

Sweet. Sandwich and sweet-chili. Dean pops the lid open and curses. The lid is stuck to his palm. He grabs it with his other hand which only makes it get stuck there. “Great, now the curse is evolving or whatever.”

Jack grabs the lid and places it on the table. “There.”

“Thanks, Jack. Listen, we're gonna call Rowena. She's a witch, she knows all about hexes and curses. “

Jack's smile falters the more Dean talks.

“What is it, Jack? Spill.”

Jack exhales and looks from Dean to Cas. “We already tried that. Sam called her earlier and she's never heard about a curse like yours.”

A cold dread comes over Dean. “She's the queen bee of bewitched things – Halliwell sister number four or maybe it's five – and she's 'never heard' about a curse like this? Do you believe her, Cas?”

Cas sighs. “We've called her an ally, a friend even, for years. She has no reason to lie to us.”

It's like a tsunami wave and Dean can't ignore it any longer. He stands up. “Grab my hand, Cas, we're going.”

Cas places his hand on Dean's shoulder and he doesn't even complain. Suddenly, he just has to go.

“Where are we going?”

Dean clenches his teeth. “Just come along.”

The door is right there and Cas is still attached to his shoulder. It should work.

“Alright, here's how it's gonna go. You run the opposite direction and I'll close the door as fast as I can.”

Cas arches a skeptical eyebrow at Dean. “You empty your bladder that fast?”

Dean grits his teeth. “I'll make it fast. Alright, go.” He doesn't even stop to look at Cas, he beelines for the door and closes it after entering the small bathroom. He manages to pull his pants and boxers down when he hears a loud bang on the door and then he's being pulled back.

“Cas, you alright?”

“As alright as I can be.”

Dean can't believe his life has come to this. “Uh, put your hands in your ears or something.” Dean pushes forward but it's like pushing against an invisible wind. Finally, he manages to grab the toilet ring. He grits his teeth as he wraps his legs around the toilet and squeezes hard.

Tentatively, he lets go but finds the pull too strong. He holds on with one hand while grabbing his dick with the other. He's gonna fucking burst. “Cas?”

“Yes?”

“Hum a song or something.”

There's a beat of silence. “What do you like to hear?”

“I don't fucking care. Just sing something.”

Dean relieves himself to the humming tunes of Frozen's  _Let It Go._

†

“Did the chestnuts work?”

“No.”

“How about the salt and holy water?”

Cas sighs. “We're still attached, yes?”

“Not the praying to what – four different deities, not the clapping and standing to the East on one leg, while making a wish. I even sacrificed my best Zeppelin shirt. What the hell kind of curse is this?”

Dean sinks to the floor, back to back with Cas.

“You know,” Cas says, “most curses if there isn't something you have to _do_ , get resolved by something you _say_.”

Dean plays with the hem of his T-shirt. He can feel Cas' breaths with each subtle rise and fall of his back. It feels nice, grounding even. “Like a confession.”

Cas hums. “Like a confession.”

“There's a shitton of things I can confess to. And _you!_ You're ancient. We'll never figure it out.”

He hears Cas huff out air. “We can try.”

“Alright, here's for trying.”

What feels like hours later, Dean is back to the hygiene category. “I steal Sam's conditioner.”

“I don't think that would warrant a curse like this.”

Dean shrugs. “I don't know, Cas. We've done the silly confessions, deep dark childhood confessions, hygiene confessions, food, hobbies, and secret music confessions. Even the angel shit about Michael and Lucifer and – I don't know what the hell more I can confess to.” He pauses. “I love sprouts, alright!”

“Germinated seeds are hardly a curse. On the contrary, they're very good for the digestive system...”

“I need a break.”

There's a lilt of amusement to Cas' voice. “I'll wait right here, then.”  
  
“That story again, very funny. OK, up we go.”

That's where things go wrong, or very right.

As Dean pushes himself up, Cas pulls away to give Dean space. Maybe the curse truly is getting worse because Dean takes one step before Cas' front is plastered against his back.

He feels Cas' hands on his hips as Cas tries to push them apart. Dean only experiences freedom for a few seconds before Cas slams against his back again. The unintentional movement – pounding really – of Cas' groin against his ass has him gasping out.

“Sorry, Dean.” Cas pulls away again, his hands firmly on Dean's hips, only for him to get pushed against Dean's ass again.

It feels so good and to his horror, Dean can feel his dick swell. He's never been more grateful that Cas is stuck to the back now and not the front. On the other hand, if there hadn't been a curse, there would be nothing to be grateful about.

“It's alright, Cas.” It's more than alright.

Dean bites his lip to stifle a groan as Cas pushes against him. His cock twitches and Dean is desperate to touch himself but Cas is right there...  _right there._

Cas slams into him again and Dean whispers, “Stop, stop.” He's out of breath, restless and his treacherous heart is betraying him, pounding away like he's dying.

Dean is dying.

  
“Sorry...” He can feel Cas lean against his back, being still. It feels warm and nice and Dean itches to just take Cas' arms and wrap them around himself.

Cas is silent but he doesn't try to pull away.

He can always blame the curse, that his arms got stuck that way. If Dean thought his heart was beating fast before, now, it's going faster than the roadrunner. The only difference is that he wants the coyote to catch him.

_ Like a confession.  _ Dean has confessed to a ton of stuff, that he actually likes cucumber water, that he likes horror movies because the good guys always win, that he knows that Cas gives Jack the sweet cereal – and he totally approves. Michael and monsters and his childhood shit have all been brought out into the light, to no avail.

But there is a confession he's still keeping from Cas.

Cas had talked about his time with Naomi – Dean's gut churns just thinking about that. He confessed to how he uses his grace to make Dean's shirts soft – kinda weird but thoughtful, Dean is not complaining and how Cas at times feels alone.

“You're not alone, Cas.” Dean's voice is low.

Cas huffs out a breath, his front still plastered to Dean's back.

“I mean it, you're not alone. I'm kind of... pissed and sad you think otherwise.”

“You and Sam are human, extraordinary humans yes, but at the end of the day, you're still going to die. And as a brilliantly as you shine – I've seen your soul Dean, it's shines like the greatest supernova – that light will diminish one day. And I'll stay.”

Dean scoffs. “Yeah, that's nice and all about the future. What about fucking now?”

“I'm stuck with you.”

Dean sighs. “You know you're not stuck with me, right...”

“We are quite literally stuck to each other, Dean.”

Dean rolls his eyes and leans back into Cas' chest. He's getting tired but doesn't want to change his position. He can at least enjoy being close to Cas now that he has a curse as a pretense.

“Are you tired?”

Cas moves slightly and his front presses against Dean's ass. Fuck, his cock stirs again.

“It's noon, Cas.”

“Well, you do nap sometimes.”

Maybe he should take a nap. But then they'll be pressed together, in bed, and Dean will definitely not be able to handle that. “Do you remember that time when you died, Cas?” And there his boner dies.

Cas chuckles. “Which one?”

“Isn't that messed up, that we have a number of deaths to choose from?” Dean licks his lips. “Uh... before Jack was born.” He has to be a fucking idiot or masochist to bring this topic up, _now._

“Yes, when I went to the Empty.”

Dean hums. “Yeah, that one.”

His thoughts churn inside and Dean thinks about how he's gonna say things without it being too obvious. He fucking loves Cas but what if Cas rejects him? And that would be super great when they're stuck together, it's not like he can escape if shit goes bad.

But it  _is_ a confession. 

It's the one thing he's kept from Cas for so long that it's almost become second nature to him.

Suddenly it's like a fire. It burns in his chest, blooming with each beat of his heart. His lips burn with the need to say those words – I love you – to expel that fire and hope that not everything goes down into flames. He _wants_ things to go up in flames, he wants Cas to feel the same and then he can finally touch Cas, touch him the way he's craved for years. 

Dean laughs out loud. This is fucking ridiculous.

Cas clears his throat. “I wasn't aware... it was a topic of amusement, me going to the Empty.”

Shit.

Dean tries to get up but remembers Cas is there. Cas is on board though, because he stands with Dean, cloaking him like a shield. Always protecting him. Even when he doesn't deserve it.

“Uh, sorry, Cas, I'm so sorry man,” Dean breathes. “I wasn't laughing at that. It was just... nevermind.”

Cas just hums.

Dean grinds his jaw and exhales. Fucking hell. “You have me.”

He senses how Cas stills behind him.

After what feels like an eternity, Cas speaks. “What do you mean?”

Dean rubs his face and sighs. “You have _me,_ Cas.” He decides to continue before he regrets it. “I was fucking beyond myself when you died, alright. Was I angry? Like hell I was, I was fucking furious. But I was crushed too, Cas. A broken man. I was an asshole too. Blamed Sam, blamed _Jack_ for your death. Blamed Chuck. I was right on that one though.”

Cas is still behind him like a shadow. Dean looks down at the floor. “I thought I'd lost you forever. I never pray for anything, but I prayed then, Cas. I prayed that God would send you back. To  _me._ Not to Jack, not to Sam but to  _me_ .”

“So we could keep fighting, so I could keep fighting. That's what you told me.”

Dean tears himself away from Cas and turns to look at him. Cas' eyes are on him like a searchlight, looking for something. The weird pull is still present.

Dean grinds his jaw. “Yeah, I did. There were some things I didn't tell you though.” He takes a step forward before he gets plastered against Cas again.

Cas' chest connects with his, heart to heart which is fucking hilarious if Dean wasn't so terrified. A real heart-to-heart this one. “That was not the reason, Cas.” He looks to the side, at the lapel of Cas' trenchcoat.

“What was the reason then?” Cas' voice is quiet and subdued. It's as if he's on a precipe, inhaling one last time before taking the plunge and jumping off.

Dean's gaze rests at Cas' collar. He shudders out a long breath.

“I was fucking devasted and lost, Cas because I lost _you_. I lost the love of my life and I thought I'd never get you back, and I tried everything but you were dead and gone and I just couldn't deal. Not with anything. What was even the point of going on and fighting when you were not there with me? And the fucked up part was that I didn't tell you, you never knew any of it and then you came back and I was so fucking happy man, so happy and I couldn't tell you, I _couldn't,_ but I wanted you to fight with me, of course, I wanted that. But I also wanted you to be with me. I was happy because you were back, you Cas, my friend. You're my best friend.”

Dean exhales shakily and looks Cas in the eyes. “And I love you. I've always loved you.”

He waits for a hole to swallow him up, for Cas to shove him back, for him to say no and laugh at him.

He waits for rejection.

Cas' eyes are huge and Dean fears that he's fucked up.

A nasty pull in his stomach starts to grow, clawing its way up to his chest where it presses heavily. Slowly it meanders up and settles in his throat and Dean thinks he's gonna be sick, right then and there.

Then Cas transforms; his eyes light up and his smile – it's enough to warm Dean's heart for days. There's still a note of uncertainty there though, in the slight tremble as Cas whispers. “You love me?”

He doesn't sound angry, no. If Dean didn't know better he'd say Cas sounds  _awed._

Dean nods and dares to smile. “Yeah, Cas. I do.”

Cas crashes into him, but it's the good kind of crash, with his arms around Dean and his lips on his mouth.

Dean sucks in a shocked breath – he can't believe this is happening – and then he opens up to Cas.

A moan escapes him as Cas kisses him with abandon, and the taste of Cas overwhelms him. Lightning on a starry night as it splits the sky, the freshness of rain on an early morning, and the salt of the oceanic undercurrents, hidden underneath but vast, dark, and powerful.

Cas _overwhelms_ him.

Dean's hands tremble but he pulls at Cas' trench coat, tugs at his shirt and he splays his hands in Cas' hair. He makes a further mess of Cas' perpetually disheveled hairdo and when Dean pulls back from Cas' his lips are swollen and his heart is aching.

It aches for this man in front of him.

“Cas...” and he can't help the grin on his face, the goddamn smile and if this is how it feels to truly be happy, he'd be satisfied to stay like this forever.

“I love you, Dean.” It's not a whisper this time but a declaration, strong and true.

Dean's voice is hoarse but he's still smiling. “I heard you. Say it again.”

“I love you.”

Dean pulls at Cas' tie, pulls him backward and Cas comes willingly. He grabs Dean by the hips and their bodies are flush together.

Dean falls back onto the bed, Cas clinging to him. His shirt is still open. Dean pulls at it until Cas is free from the fabric and his hands roam over strong arms, a smooth chest. He trails shaky fingers down Cas' stomach and huffs out a breath as Cas pulls his T-shirt over his head.

“Yeah, you're right, I don't need that.”

“You don't.” Cas' voice is dark and Dean moans, his hips undulating and pushing up against him.

“Fuck, you don't know how long I wanted this, how I've dreamed about this.” Dean pulls Cas in for another kiss, this one more careful. He explores Cas' mouth and moans against the softness of his tongue, and how Cas' fingers curl at the base of his neck.

His skin is on fire and when Cas moves his hips, Dean's aware of Cas' straining erection.

Dean pushes his hips up against Cas' who tosses his head back with his eyes closed as he grinds down. “This is... a lot,” he exhales.

Dean grabs Cas' hand and intertwines their fingers. “Fuck, you're a lot, Cas. You should see yourself, you're gorgeous.” He smiles again.

How easy his lips form into a smile, how easy his fucking heart feels. “You're gorgeous, Cas.”

“I was known as the most handsome angel in the garrison.”

Dean laughs out loud and just because he can say it, he does. “I love you, Cas.”

Cas smiles. “I love you too, Dean.”

Dean pulls at Cas' belt, needing – wanting – to see all of him. As Cas eases up and removes his pants and boxers, Dean tosses his own sweatpants and underwear on the floor.

He should have been nervous but he's almost forgotten about himself. Cas has always had this commanding presence that is noticeable when he enters a room and having him here now, in Dean's bed, Cas demands notice.

“Come here,” Dean says and sits up straighter so he can pull Cas in. He bends down and kisses Cas' on the side of his neck. He grins against his warm skin as Cas thrusts up and gasps.

“I thought the idea was us not being so close together. Personal space...” Cas moans.

“Not by force – “ Dean strokes Cas' side while laving down Cas' collarbone. He sucks in Cas' nipple and smiles as Cas inhales sharply. He grazes it carefully with his teeth before kissing Cas mouth again. “But this, this kind of stuck is good.”

Cas' hands make their way down Dean's stomach, leaving a trail of fire behind. He can't turn his eyes away and nods mutely as Cas grabs his aching cock. “Fuck, yeah.” Dean thrusts up against Cas' hand.

He's lost in the warmth and feel of Cas' hand and when Cas lets go he's about to utter a protest but Cas moves so their cocks are flush together. “Is this good? I think this would – “

Dean catches Cas' words in a kiss and mumbles, “ – is very good.” He thrusts again as he wraps his arms around Cas. The feel of Cas' hand on his cock is like a spiritual experience. Arousal drums inside him but Dean doesn't care.

Cas swipes a thumb over his head that leaks precum before he makes a tight fist. The feel of Cas' warm cock against his own and his hands are out of this world.

“Dean...” Cas pants and Dean knows.  
  
“Yeah, just like that, it's alright, Cas.”

Cas tightens his hold and jerks them off fast. Each stroke sends shivers of heat and pleasure through him and Dean closes his eyes in ecstasy. It's too fucking much.

Dean pushes against Cas and kisses him again. “Christ, Ima cum now,” he exhales against warm skin, a soft embrace that already feels like home. It has always been home.

Cas just moans in reply and Dean grips Cas' shoulders, nails digging in, as he comes hard. Spurts of come land on his stomach and his hand is sticky.

Nothing of it matters as he watches Cas come undone in front of him. His hand moves fast over his own cock and then he still for a brief second, muscles tightening and with a harsh grunt, Cas spills on his fist.

Dean kisses him as Cas continues to be wrecked by small tremors of pleasure – a kiss on his clavicle, a deep kiss on his throat, a gentle peck on his cheek – until he whispers close to his ear. “That was perfect, you're perfect, Cas, I love you, I love you.”

And Cas pulls them down again, and they're sweat-soaked, cum already hardening on their warm bodies. Dean listens to Cas' steady heartbeats and trails nonsensical patterns on his skin. Cas holds him so close like he's afraid to lose him. Strong fingers trail in his hair, caressing and pulling, and Dean sighs.

If there ever was something close to perfect, it was this moment.

Cas' deep voice is like a soothing caress. “I never thought this would ever be true, be real. I love you, Dean Winchester.”

“I love you, Castiel Winchester.”

Cas exhales softly. “Winchester is it now?”

Dean looks at Cas. “You always belonged, Cas. You are a Winchester, you're family and I love you.”

Cas smiles. “I've always said you have a big, soft heart.”

“Who you calling soft?”

He pulls Cas close, pressing his nose against his chest, and inhales. Home, he is home.

†

Dean is starving now that Cas has mentioned food. “I swear, if there is no bacon...”

“If you're that hungry I think even eggs without bacon will do.”

Dean grins and pulls up their intertwined hands to kiss Cas' hand. “Blasphemy.”

Sam meets them in the hallways. “Guys! I found someone. It's a witch in Witchita and she has a spell that might work.

Dean puts up a hand. “It's fine, Sammy, we're cool.”

Sam glances down at their hands intertwined and then looks at Cas.

“You can direct that sheepish, skeptical gaze at me too, you know,” Dean says but he's not even annoyed. He's been ridiculously happy the last few hours and it's such a foreign feeling that he feels the need to go hunt something down – decapitate a vampire, burn down a cursed object, rocksalt a ghost into oblivion – just to feel something else besides this sugar-sweet high.

He'll do that. Later.

“But, the curse. You're still cursed...”

Dean lets go of Cas' hand. “We're good, Sammy.”

Cas takes Dean's hand and kisses it before Dean grabs it again. He's never letting go.

Sam stares at them with an open mouth. “Oh...” He closes it again and nods, a smile on his face. “ _Oh_. It was about time.” Opening his arms wide, Sam brings them into a big hug. “So no witch calls to Witchita then, Dean?”

“None needed.”

“I'm so happy for you guys. Congrats.” He looks at Cas pointedly. “Take care of my brother. Please stop him when he's being too much of a fool.”

Cas sighs but his eyes sparkle. “I think that ship has sailed a long time ago.”

“Hey, I'm still right here. Enough with this. Nothing has changed. I love Cas, he loves me, I'm still hungry!”

Sam shakes his head. “I'll go tell Jack...”

“And we'll go make a sandwich.”

†

Rowena turns a page in her book when there's a sudden whoosh to her left. She looks at the purple candle that has ignited all on its own.

She smiles. “Ah, finally the fools have come to their senses. Well done, Dean and Cas. I wish you much happiness.”

She pours some wine into a crystal glass. “Slàinte! Congratulations boys.” Carefully, Rowena blows out the candle.

**Author's Note:**

> Diligere eos. Et corpora eorum non tenetur etiam according to my trusted Google means: Love binds them. Let their bodies be bound as well. Google believes this, I believe this.


End file.
